Orphan
by AnisoulJ93
Summary: a series of snips from L's childhood. Used to be a one shot.
1. Alone?

_**This fic is about L before being discovered by Watari. He still attends school. The story is set in England. In the story, well, just read and find out.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own L. No one owns L. He is too awesome for that. In fact he owns you!**_

My name is L. Lawliet. I was sitting on the swings on my own in the park. Whenever I wanted to escape from reality, I always came to sit on this swing. I would clutch my knee's up to my chest and simply sit there, one hand clasped around my knee's and one hand clutching the chain I would think about all the things that have happened to me. I never actually swung. It was pretty difficult as with my knee's bent to my chest I couldn't use my legs to add momentum. But it was still nice to just sit there. No one will bother me. No one will shout at me, or call me names, or glare at me. This rusty and mouldy old swing meant more to me than half of my possessions. Not that that could count for much. The only things I possessed was a single white t-shirt and pair of jeans. Other than that I had a yoyo, an old chess set and my bed. I lived in the orphanage, and also attended school there. I would sit by myself all day long through classes, listening to the estranged plump lady sitting at the front. Occasionally she would leap out at a student. Try to catch him of guard with a question. It wasn't to check he was listening. It was to make him feel stupid. To portray him as an idiot to the rest of the class. She never asked me though. Not since I told her that Wolsey wasn't executed, but rather died during the trip. She had tried to deny this, say that he was executed. She tried to bring in another teacher to prove her point. An actual history teacher. This had been her mistake. It had actually amused me to see the look on the teachers face when she was told I was right. She had been so confident, so sure of herself. I could remember the other kids snickering.

Don't misinterpret. I wasn't popular with the other kids. They hated me to the point of isolation. Not a single one of them would get near me. They wouldn't look at me, nor speak to me' nor even touch me. And why. Because they envied me. They envied my mind and my strength. None of them could beat Me., weather in tests or sports. And don't think that this stops at the children. A lot of the adults couldn't beat me either. They would create a special test, just for me, they said I was a bit further than the other kids. Just a little bit. So I had a slightly harder test than the other kids. The square root of 3427. The lowest common multiple of 324.749 and 412.833. They thought that by asking me these questions they could beat me. That if I got these questions wrong that they were superior, that they were greater than me. They never beat me though. I always got a perfect score. I always won. I would always win. I could only ever win.

They weren't all like that though. Mr Cartner, the head of maths was a chess player who had been undefeated by all the other teachers and students in the school. I had been helping him tidy up when I stopped to admire the chess board on his desk. I had never played before but I had read about chess in a library book. Mr Cartner saw me staring and asked if I wanted him to teach me how to play. I nodded. He taught me the rules and we soon started playing a game. A moved my pieces accordingly; each one like Mr Cartner had explained I should. Mr Cartner's moves began too take longer and longer and eventually sweat appeared on his brow. I didn't understand. This was easy! He should be better than this. At first I pondered if he was letting me win, but the expression on his face told me otherwise. Mr Cartner was stunned, yet not surprised when I called checkmate. I assumed that now he too would hate me. But he smiled. I didn't understand. He had lost. He had been beaten, his pride broken. A mere six year old had defeated him at his favourite game. So why was he happy? "I've finally found a good opponent" he said. We played a lot more games after that. Not just chess, but other games too. Mah-jong for instance. It confused me that he never got upset when he lost. I had begun to wonder if this is what's called a friend. No. He was use an excuse. An excuse to escape my own loneliness. When he died, Mr Cartner. I didn't feel much about it. He had been murdered. Stabbed through the heart. Our school held a memorial for him. W e had to sit and honour his memory. I didn't see what the big deal was. Death would come to us all eventually. I often wondered that if we could see death, actually know we were going to die. Would we try to prevent it? Try to alter it somehow. Or would we just except it. It doesn't matter. Least of all to Mr Cartner. Mr Cartner had been no exception. I was no exception. I had assumed that his will would leave his possessions to his family. But he didn't have any family. Just like me. I was surprised to learn that he had left me his chest set. It was old and dusty. But now I had another possession. The other kids were jealous. "Why does he get a present of Mr Cartner," they asked? "It's not fair." They are right. Life isn't fair. If life was fair I'd have a family. A mother and a father. And I wouldn't be spending my birthday sat on a swing. That's a point. Today was my birthday. October 31st. otherwise known as Halloween. Not that it mattered. I would probably spend my birthday this year the same way I had spent it last year. Alone.

The teacher had asked me to help with the decorations. They were going to have a Halloween party this year and everyone was helping out. I didn't think much of Halloween. Dressing up as a monster. Why. What was the point? I was already called a monster anyway. Why should I help decorate? No one wants me to be there. They all wish I was dead. Buried along side Mr Cartner. I couldn't see why they were envious of me. Couldn't they see? If I always win. If I understand everything. What is there left to do. Why couldn't they see that with the gift of intelligence comes the curse of boredom? That's all there is left for me now. As I sit here on this swing. I had been dreaming. I can see shoes, Shoes that belong to a young child. I looked up. I was right. It was a small Japanese child. "Konichiwa," I started, but the boy said "Hello" at the same time. Interesting. I took a good look at the boy. He had wavy brown hair and his eyes too were a shade of chestnut."What do you want," I said at last. The boy looked at me. He opened his mouth, stopped, and then closed it again. Eventually he said "You remind me of me." I didn't understand. "Where are you from?" A stupid question to be honest, but the boy replied anyway. "Japan. I'm on holiday with father and mother." He stooped down into the swing next to me. He planted his feat on the ground and began rocking back and forth. "You are like me", he said. I still didn't get it. How was I like him? We looked completely different. We have different backgrounds and different personalities. This is what I told him, but he shook his head. "Your bored too". I look at him for a few seconds. Who was this boy? "What's your name" I said at last. "Yagami", Replied the boy. "My name is Light Yagami".

**And that is where I shall leave it. I know this was supposed to be a oneshot, but now, several months after writing this, I suudenly felt like doing a second chapter. Kudos to everyone who put this on story alert despite me saying it was a oneshot.**


	2. Friends

**Okay, I wrote a follow on and I present you now with a chapter two. I might make more of these little snips from L's life. Though if they do I won't do any of them within a close time frame, and I may not even write them in Chronological order. **

The eyes staring back into my own seemed featureless. Like a dozen little pools of colour and little else. I had been told that this place, this 'Whammy House,' was a place full of people like me. But that wasn't true. I could already see it. These children were nothing like me. Sure, when people stare into my eyes, they call me a monster, a soulless child with empty eyes. But that's not true. I admire my eyes. They are deep, almost bottomless and full with the experiences of my life. That's why they seem so empty. Because I am constantly comprehending my own being. But these children were different. They were smart yes. But they had non of that intelligence that I do. They did not suffer from the same nagging feeling of Boredom that I have. Most likely these kids have been here their whole lives, locked in here. I can already tell. I will be an outsider here too.

Perhaps I was somewhat wrong. Having lived here for a whole week now, I have found out the existence of one who seems... similar, though I am hesitant to say it. He is not as smart as more, or as Athletic. Indeed in the time I have been here, I have discovered that some sports, such as tennis, hold some value of entertainment. However he is not like any one else here, who seem completely satisfied to carry out the rest of their days based on the whim of the adults and the latest problem that someone wanted to solve. But this boy, unlike the others at this school, had ambition. He reminded me, somewhat, of that Japanese boy. His eyes were alive with wonder and curiosity. Although he was not the smartest here was determined and there seemed to be a force driving him to go beyond his own potential. He was more than adequate in his academic work and had pretty good athletic ability. But whilst his personality seemed sort of reflective of the Japanese boy, his appearance was similar to mine. His eyes were deep like mine, but shining with heightened ambition, his skin was pale and thin dark rings were forming under his eyes. His hair was a deep rooted black like me, although not quite as long or as unruly as my own. He was in a state of constant excitement however, never bored like myself. Always trying to beat someone at something and gain their acknowledgment, to be acknowledged as their superior. He was always plotting, always scheming deep into the night. It was my fortune, for I found this boy to be interesting, for us both to be assigned to the same room. In this school, we do not refer to either ourselves or each other by name, but rather by our assigned letters. Hence holding out my hand to him, pleased I will admit, to make his acquaintance, he too held his hand out to me. "Hi," he said, a grin on his face, "I am B. That stands for 'the Best'.

The best, as I suspected, seemed to be a personal goal of his. An agenda he was obsessed with. He was constantly striving to improve himself. He always tried to be the first to finish his test with the highest score. Despite his lack of sleep, he never seemed tired but rather remained full of energy. He ate healthily. He challenged everyone who was considered the best at any one thing. He contrived to draw better than A, the supreme child art genius. He raced against E, who held the title of the fastest runner under the age of thirteen. But, to my surprise, the one who he seemed to challenge more than any other was me. Perhaps because I am always at his disposal as we share the same room. But he was always challenging me. Upon arriving here I had distinguished myself from the rest. There was no puzzle I could not crack, no test I could not ace. Although I was no figure of admiration, what was respected most in this school was intelligence. And although Watari, the founder of this institute as he had introduced himself to me, accepted and nurtured all forms of genius, and showed considerable kindness to all he met, the reason he created this place was still nurture intelligence of the children above all else. As such although not a figure of admiration, I had certainly become a figure of respect. Perhaps for this reason, B constantly challenged me. He created puzzles and competitions, constantly trying to prove that there was something in this world I could not figure out. Although he failed each time. But perhaps it is because no one respected B. Perhaps although I still felt somewhat out of place here, he held some amount of Jealousy towards me. Although he was certainly brilliant in terms of intelligence and athletic achievement, his competitive nature was not something that was highly accepted in the school. Although those who matured solely in sports were expected to be competitive, trying to constantly outpace each other and increase their skills in their area. B was different. He challenged anyone and everyone, and although he improved himself, it was not out of any personal interest that he did see. To improve himself was merely a means to an end to him. He stood out like a sore thumb in this place, almost always alone. But despite this he brought life to this place. Those who believed themselves to be great in their own area of skill did not want to lose to this Jack of all trades. I personally welcomed the challenge. Although certainly more challenging than my old school, this place still did not hold anything of interest to me. His challenge was one of the few things I had to look forward too.

Upon moving here I had bought with me Mr Cartner's old chess set. I have polished it regularly, sanding out the scratches to the board and fixing it up where necessary until now it looks like a completely new chess set, albeit a cheap one. Regardless one of the few things I still enjoyed was a good chess game. The problem was finding a good opponent. B, of course was always ready to challenge me, and proved himself to be an excellent player, almost at my own level. Watari too, should he be around would gladly indulge me in a game or two. However a lot of the kids here seemed far to obsessed with their own personal talents to express any wish to play. At first I was hopeful of a few extra opponents. Surely in this large complex full of young 'geni' as we are called, there would be one or two people who excel at chess, or showed some interest in it. Unfortunately these people seemed few and far between. Even if they would play they often lacked any tactical skill at the game. However, my sadness at the lack of opposition to Chess seemed to disappear with the appearance of P. P was a young girl about the age of six or seven. She came here to the institute about a year after I did. She had lost all her family in some accident or another. I do not know the true details of it nor do I have any wish to find out. She remained detached from the other children for months, often sitting by herself somewhere or another she remained even more detached from the other children. I found myself in the Library one evening playing a match with B. He was performing exceptionally well, getting better with each game. We had sat at the same table as P. She sat slightly too our left. She was dressed in casual clothes but her eyes were dark and her brown shoulder length hair messier than my own. Her eyes were blue but empty, more so than any other set of eyes I'd seen since I had taken residence here. But I notices that from the corner of her eye, she was looking though the corner of her eyes at our chess match. I chose to ignore her, and instead return my Intention to B's next play. He was thinking it over, thinking up a new strategy to counter the position in which I had placed him, pinning his Queen and leaving an open route to his King. At that moment P spoke probably her first words since arriving at the Whammy's. "The knight". It was single whisper, barely audible, but both of our ears perked up at the sound. It was my first time hearing her speak and the single word she spoke, spoke volumes to my ears. It was something I was thinking myself, a counter to the position I had forced upon B was to leave my own King slightly exposed. By moving his Knight forwards now he would force me to play defensively and eventually he'd be able to brush off my assault. The fact that this girl had, although I wasn't not entirely certain, seen through my plan meant that I might finally have met a worthy opponent. B noticed a slight flicker across my expression that was my recognition of the girl, and instantly returned to the board, moving his Rook into a defensive position, completely ignoring the advice. I knew that B had already seen the trick with the Knight the second the girl pointed it out, but his own ego had prevented him from following the move through. The move he made in it's stead was not a weak move however, but a shrewd one, serving to spring a trap later on. However, I had already seen through this, and within a few more turns the game was mine. P sat silently, watching us without a single muscle in her face so much as tensing or twitching. Her breathing so steady that if not for her occasional breathing you would think she was a statue. But finally I had seen someone who might offer me a challenge. "Do you want to play a game," I asked, pointing with a single finger to the board. B puffed out his cheeks in annoyance, obviously recognizing that I saw this girl as a bigger threat than him. For several seconds P did not answer. But slowly she nodded her head.

My match with P went beyond my expectations. Silently, her hand acted as a god of death that moved so quietly over the board, exterminating my own pieces. Her strategy was unique. She paid no mind to my king but instead focused on systematically massacring my pieces. Once half of my pawns, my knights, a bishop and a rook were gone only then did she move in for the kill. My own strategies had been torn apart as the key pieces to each strategy were taken before I could implement them. Luckily I had a single trap left, and thus I was able to take several of her own pieces in a few turns, evening the playing field. Unfortunately this still proved to be inefficient, and I knew my first loss at my favourite game. It was the first time in my life I had ever lost, and I hated it. It was a feeling I am not used to, nor did I wish to get used to it. I had played my best, used all of my tactical cunning and still I had lost. Both B and I simply sat their in silence. P had once again returned to be still. A few seconds of silence passed, after which Watari came though the door. "P, you're going to an ordinary Orphanage next month. Do not worry, you shall be perfectly provided for." Watari continued to talk to her, trying to comfort her as if she showed some sign of hurt of discomfort at the prospect of moving. He had not even noticed either B or I. "Watari," I said, beckoning to the old man. It had been his wish to simply be called Watari, lacking any formalities such as 'sir'. "Why is P leaving?"

He eyes us kindly, seeming somehow to come to the conclusion that we had befriended the girl. But that wasn't it. I did not want her to leave it is true, but not for a reason as small as emotional attachment. I had not defeated her yet. I wished to play with the girl once more. And again if I had too. Keep on playing until I won. Perhaps I was coming to understand B's feelings. The feeling of having the position of the best taken from you.

"The truth is," said Watari, eyeing us sadly," that P does not have the qualification necessary to stay here. I had agreed to have her here for only a short time. She is above average in both school and sports, but not at a level where she can be accepted here. "

That was a lie. The girl had defeated even me. She had every right to be here. These were my thoughts, but somehow they did not come out. I did not wish to admit my loss.

However B was not so hesitant.

"But she's like a tactical genius," he said, pointing to his brain and frowning.

"Eh," Watari seemed surprised at B's remark, and for the first time seemed to notice the chess board in-between the girl and I. Watari was no amateur to chess. He could see quite clearly, that I, being at one end of the board had been defeated.

"L, could it be... that you lost?"

He asked this question with an air of disbelief, as if the very concept of me losing was something that never occurred to him. And I admit that it had never occurred to me either. My cheeks were red with shame and I attempted to hide them behind my fringe, holding my head down low. Regardless I stuttered a yes. I was confident that if I said No, then Watari would believe me. He might think that the pieces played the other way round. But now if P has the skill to defeat me, he might let her stay. And if she stays, then I can have a rematch. Right now, to me that was what mattered most. P stared at us, blinking slightly faster than usual. I gained the impression that she was confused.

"I see," said Watari, standing up slightly straighter. That changes everything. A chess genius eh. I don't think we have one of those. Well save for L, but then his area of expertise lye elsewhere. P, would you like to stay here?"

She stared at him, unblinking. Whether she even heard him was a question that even I couldn't answer, and I think if B knew this he might get angry that she has done something he could not _again. _But nothing confused me more than her next reaction. She turned away from Watari and stared at me instead. Her cheeks turned the slightest shade of red, and slowly, she nodded her head.

Soon after P seemed to leave her shell a bit. Sometimes she would cry over the death of her parents. I never asked how they had died. It wasn't something that I, who had been thrown away, wished to know. But despite this she soon began to smile again. She would play Chess with me frequently. After a month I improved enough to drag her into a stalemate half the time, but even then, victory over her eluded me. But she always seemed do happy to play. She would eat lunch With B and I, and sit next to us at tea. She would play sports with us and proved herself somewhat capable and she would frequently request our help for homework and such. I wonder now, if perhaps the relationship that I shared with B and P could be called friendship? Perhaps I was not so lonely after all.

**Okay, this is as you have guessed non-cannon. I kinda like the character of P. I don't think the letter had been used much in other fics (though I could be wrong), so I'm gonna keep her around. I might also write a fic detailing Watari's first meeting with L. Anyway tell me what you think and if you want me to write more. also, sorry if you find the writing style confusing.**


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